


communication blackout

by The_Conquering_Weirdo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Daichi is the best senpai, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Spanking, Panic Attacks, Senpai-Kouhai Relationship, Spanking, Tsukishima being a dick, what’s new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Conquering_Weirdo/pseuds/The_Conquering_Weirdo
Summary: Tobio has a hard time communicating, and Karasuno’s captain fills in the gaps.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 5
Kudos: 114





	communication blackout

“But that’s not what I—“

“Then what _were_ you trying to do?” Sawamura interrupts sternly. Tobio curls his hands into fists, blinking rapidly, and tries to make his clumsy tongue work.

“I saw you, Kageyama. You aimed the ball to knock off his glasses on purpose. You have the control for it, and there was no way that was an accident. Don’t try to convince me otherwise.” 

The captain of their team never looks more intimidating than with his arms crossed over his chest, drawing the eyes to his well-defined biceps, triceps, and big, big hands. Not to mention his _delts_. Tobio has been fighting to make moisture appear in his mouth since Sawamura barked out his name in the dead silence of the gym, and he has yet to succeed. 

“Well?” he insists. Sweat trickles down his neck, cold from the freezing air blasting through the open doors of the gym. Hinata trudges slowly past him, wide, blank eyes aimed straight at the floor. It doesn’t help the dryness, or the tension behind his eyes. 

_I was trying to make him stop_ , he wants to say. _He wouldn’t shut up, so I had to make him_.

But Tsukishima has been running his mouth about Karasuno’s smallest player for long enough that there’s no way their captain could possibly have missed it. Most likely he agrees, in some way, even if his status means he can’t actually say it out loud. 

Tobio doesn’t look at that bright orange hair, terrified of drawing attention to him. 

_(“Just because you’re fucking him,” Tsukishima murmurs as he passes, dropping a handful of icy, cold, painful snow over the rush of victory—)_

“His glasses,” his mouth blurts out coldly, “offend my eyes. I don’t see why I should have to see them when I pass to him, and since I have to pass to him, it only makes sense to get rid of the eyesore first.” 

He thought the silence dead before: he realises he was wrong, in the aftermath of chilling silence falling, as dead as a grave at midnight. Tobio has been avoiding looking straight at Sawamura-senpai, even if their age difference means he owes him that respect, and that means he catches the look on Tsukishima’s face as he looks away.

 _Coward_ , he thinks bitingly. _Say it to his face. Say it where we can hear you, if you have the_ balls. 

But the reason he’s not calling the bastard out in public is for the same reason he’s covering for him.

_(The happy smile on Hinata’s face disappears, as if torn away. Tobio’s hands go rigid, the ball he meant to serve feeling like a dead weight in his hands. His friend-enemy-rival lowers his head to stare at the ground, the energy seeming to drain out of him. He doesn’t move, but Tobio can’t help feeling like he’s getting farther and farther away from him with every passing second—)_

“ _Kageyama-kun_ ,” Coach Ukai thunders, the ominous rumble of thunder at the start of a storm. But Tobio is already caught by then, gripped in the whirlwind of an inescapable gust.

“We’ll be back in a bit, Sensei,” his senpai calls gravely, his naturally deep voice sounding sepulchral to match the solemn atmosphere. Tobio grits his teeth, but doesn’t fight being towed out of the gym like he weighs nothing. Sawamura half-drags him up the stairs to the club room, careful not to make him stumble with the quick pace but not doing him any particular favors.

His wide, muscled back is tense, angry. Tobio is used to anger and disapproval from his elders, but this time, the feeling of an encroaching storm seems to be building _inside_ him, threatening to send down an overwhelming deluge in response. 

He won’t cry. 

Sawamura isn’t careful with pulling him into the room, and the rough way he closes and locks the door says a lot. The sound of the click is loud and scary in the empty room, and he focuses on the discarded bags and general mess of male teenagers to keep his body from betraying him. 

He won’t cry. But Tobio thinks it’s not unfair to want to. 

Sawamura doesn’t move from the door, once shut, only leans against it, letting his arms cross over his chest again. His eyes are tight, his mouth a flat line; Tobio’s next breath hitches, and he tries to make his swallow small and unnoticeable. 

“I don’t know what you may think of me, Kageyama, but I’m not an idiot. What’s really going on here?”

Tobio could say: _I lost my temper._

He could say: _He hurt Hinata_.

He could say: _I lost my temper because he hurt Hinata, and because he wasn’t_ wrong _._

_(The smirk on his face feels like a rash, growing upwards from the point where Tsukishima’s eyes meet Tobio’s face. He wants to scratch at it, but his hands are locked around the ball._

_“That’s called nepotism, you know? Favoring someone because of personal reasons. Just what you would expect of the King of the Court.”)_

He doesn’t say anything.

Sawamura gives him almost an entire minute before losing his patience. As a large, calloused hand comes to wrap around his shoulder, Tobio thinks that’s more than he expected to get.

His senpai has expressed his dislike of fighting on more than one occasion. This is going to get ugly, and it’s going to hurt. But he _is_ in the wrong, here, for reacting to a truth that only hurts because he lets it. So Tobio lets himself be pulled to the side to tuck under Sawamura’s arm, let’s his bottom be patted in warning; stays silent.

“Okay, Kageyama,” he says, and sighs wearily. “Your choice.” 

It takes under a minute for his resolve to falter. Senpai isn’t a spiker, but being an All-rounder with three or more years of experience equals to a hand that means business and knows how to land a strike: Tobio is grunting and twisting before they even reach twenty. 

Sawamura _does_ stop, but not before the gasps escaping his lips start to come with little ‘ows’ of discomfort and pain. 

“Change your mind yet, Kouhai? I can easily switch this up to a proper punishment if you’re looking for one, but I’d like to avoid that, if possible.” 

Tobio does consider it: His determination to stay strong and silent is already failing, and his lower half _aches_. Sawamura’s disapproval is even worse, an almost physical pain burning what exposed skin his eyes happen to meet. 

He respects Sawamura more than he’s respected anyone since Oikawa-senpai, and falling short of his expectations sucks—

Hinata’s pained expression flashes across the view of the scuffed floor. 

No. No, he can’t give in here.

A sigh, vibrating where their bodies meet. Tobio starts, then tenses as a touch at the small of his back moves to his gym shorts, and starts to tug.

“Okay. I really didn’t want to do this, but I haven’t ever done things by halves, and this isn’t an exception. I hope this teaches you to stop and think before lashing out at your teammates.”

His bare skin prickles at the exposure to cool air, and doesn’t settle at the warm palm that covers it. 

“When you’re ready, we’ll talk. Until then, listen, and pay attention.”

Tobio lasts for less than thirty seconds.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs, kicking futilely against the ground. Sawamura just lifts him higher, til he has no traction at all, and spanks lower and harder still.

“Senpai, p-please! I’ll-I’ll talk, I’m s-s-ssorry, _plllleeeaasse_!”

Before Sawamura can decide to slow down or speed up, Tobio bursts into tears. 

He covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stifle his body’s unhelpful instincts, but only continues to sob, raw and ugly behind his makeshift barrier. He can hear his senpai saying something soothing and comforting, but his rampaging heartbeat and the self-disgust at his cowardice are all he can hear. 

He knows he favors Hinata; he’s not blind to his own actions. But he doesn’t have the words to explain that he _has_ to, that Hinata’s shining presence calls for the ball like Tobio’s fingers twitch to toss it at every given moment of the day. Not passing it to him would be criminal, and Hinata _scores_ , so surely there is no wrong in focusing on him? 

“Hey, Kagayama. Kiddo, it’s okay. Shhhh.” 

Isn’t the whole point to keep the ball in play?

“Can you try to breathe a little deeper? It’s okay to cry, but I need you to slow it down a little.”

If Hinata can make goals that satisfy something in Tobio that seems to always be throbbing like a fresh wound, is it really so wrong to cater to him?

“Breathe, kiddo. Deep breaths. Feel my hand on your chest: can you make it move? Come on, try it for me.”

If Hinata is a good player, and Tobio can make him something _great_ , is there really something... _perverse_ in ensuring the ball reaches his hand? 

“That’s it. Slow it down.” 

Is something… wrong with him? 

“The ball is in someone else’s court now, Kageyama. There’s no one to fight. Breathe. Breathe out. Feel my hand moving with you. One more time, come on.”

Is Tsukishima _right_?

Tobio blinks, and inhales on the broken shards of glass that used to make up his throne. He’s not a King, not anymore, and he’s almost glad for the wake up call. 

It’s time to stop being so focused on what’s good for him, what _he_ enjoys. Just because it works doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong, and he won’t let Hinata get the brunt of his self-centered ego.

He’s almost proud of himself, for that last bit. Ten months ago, he wouldn’t have recognized the word ‘ego’ if it was spelled out for him in painstaking calligraphy. 

Sawamura stares down at him when he finishes blinking away reflective splinters from his blurry eyes. They’re sitting, he realizes, the cold floor feeling almost pleasant against his smarting backside. He has the full attention of his senpai in a way he would normally feel hunted to see; now he only feels calm, the edges of hysteria sanded down by reality.

“I don’t know what you meant by that,” Sawamura says slowly, his dark eyes sharp. “I don’t know, and I won’t be trying to guess. But I can see something’s wrong, Kageyama.” 

Tobio stares a little to the left of him, setting his jaw on embarrassing hitches in breath. Something touches his face, and he flinches. 

“....Am I really that scary?” 

The sad smile on Sawamura’s face lands like a well-aimed strike. “Am I really that hard to—“

It’s enough: that final point in a losing game.

“I’m trying,” Tobio mumbles, digging his nails into his crossed thighs. He stares at a cluster of dust and debris under an abandoned shelf, and tries not to snivel like a baby. “I’m really trying t-to pass to other people. But Hinata-baka’s _good_ , and I d-don’t understand why I have to…”

He sniffs harder, blinking at eyes that smart worse than his protesting seat. “I don’t know. I know I should pass to other people more, but I don’t pass t-to him the most because we’re _dating_. If Hinata sucked more, I wouldn’t—“

“ _What_ ,” Sawamura cuts in. Tobio feels every bone in his spine _shudder_ , falling rapidly into place to make his back go straight. That dangerous, dark tone sends his every nerve tingling, and Tobio’s eyes go wide. 

Sawamura leans forward and takes his hands, his face set in stern lines.

“ _Who_ said that, Kageyama. Tell me. Please.”

—

“I’m sorry for insinuating inappropriate things about yourself and Hinata,” Tsukishima drawls, looking completely unbothered. The redness to his eyes and the way he keeps glancing at Sawamura—at Sawamura’s _hands_ —tell a different story.

But Tobio is feeling weirdly generous, possibly on account of the kiss he got that he wasn’t expecting to receive from Hinata, after Sawamura left to confront their bad-tempered Middle Blocker.

_”Thank you,” Hinata whispered, after the sweet, deep kiss Tobio hadn’t looked for but was very happy to receive._

_“Thank you for standing up for me. It was stupid, but it was really sweet.”_

“Forget about it,” he says dismissively, bouncing the ball in his hand nonchalantly. “I didn’t take it to heart or anything. Did you expect otherwise?” He snorts, amused. Tsukishima’s eyes glint, and he draws himself up—

“Great,” Sawamura says cheerfully, the underlying menace to his tone making them both click their mouths shut. “I’m glad we worked that out. Get back to drills, both of you. We only have a bit of time left before our match.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir!”

Maybe he’s favoring Hinata, and maybe he’ll never get rid of his crown. But Tobio feels more settled into his skin than he can ever remember being, and that’s worth the distant sensation of glass shards dragging over skin. 


End file.
